She Dreams
by thegreatbluespoon
Summary: He dreams of the day he left. He dreams of the day she left. He dreams of the day she’ll come back. He dreams.. with her. GSR like all hell.


Yes, this does follow the worst episode in the history of history (that'd be Goodbye & Good Luck for those of you that live under rocks), but I promise that it's not sad. I know I swore that I'd never write about the ep, but meh. It was one of those stories that pokes at ya, and pokes at ya until you turn the stick around and beat the hell out of it, you know.

Thanks to TDCSI for convincing me that this wasn't as suck-assy as I thought. Thanks to xoxoPAUxoxo for the summary.

* * *

He dreams. Oh, he dreams. 

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day he first saw her.

The day the skinny little, pony-tailed brunette in the back of the room just wouldn't shut up, it was probably the best day of his life.

A funky beauty to her, rare brilliance in her barrage of questions, a 'my eyes are up _here_, you old perv' look on her young face while she threw the questions his way…all adding up to something that had him silently begging for more, even when he had no clue what her name was.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day they finally met.

The day outside of the lecture hall when the mood for coffee struck him, and had apparently struck her as well, it was most likely the best day of his life.

Digging through the most ridiculously overstuffed backpack he'd ever seen a person carry, she was cursing while she looked for her money. Put any other woman in front of him and have them stream out those words like she was, and he'd probably find it atrocious at the very least, but hearing her spout them out was actually kinda cute.

So he made her a deal: He'd pay for her coffee if she'd tell him her name so that he didn't have to go over the five and half page class roster and guess at it.

That was the nastiest coffee he'd ever tasted in his entire life, but he drank every last bit of it while they sat and talked, just so she'd sit and talk.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the first time they said goodbye.

They spent his last day walking around the town, talking about bugs and physics, then laughing about how unbelievably nerdy they really were. When the time came for them to say goodnight and goodbye, it was with a classy handshake, regardless of how much they both wanted more. He thanked her for being a good friend and pushed the thought of her calling whenever she'd like to.

Feeling like an asshole, and then feeling like an idiot for feeling like an asshole (because she was _just_ a student and there were no ties there, he told himself time and time again), he gave her every piece of contact information for himself that he could possibly think of before he left. Even if he was in Greenland pulling a bug out of a caveman's frozen ass, she could get in touch with him.

And the first day that she did, she interrupted him during something major at the lab, but it was still probably the best day of his life.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day he needed more than just her voice.

They hadn't talked in almost two weeks when he called her for her help. They'd both been so busy with cases and life and…_things_, but he knew that she was the only one he trusted enough to handle what was happening. He didn't know really how to ask her to just grab up some stuff and come on out to help him, but he drew in a breath and the question just came out in a whoosh.

She was there in seven hours, and she didn't leave him for seven years. She was a pain in the ass at times. A lot of times.

Damned if those weren't the greatest two thousand five hundred fifty-six days of his life though.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day he first realized he was a complete fucking moron.

No?

No!?

He really just told her that? Seriously just told the woman 'no' to a dinner with her and her alone? As probably the worst day of his life, he considers this a nightmare, not a dream. Fucking moron.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day he went with what he knew was right.

The man they arrested, obviously except for the charge of murder he had going against him, lived wholly by the Bible. Believing in everything from forever growing out his beard to dedicating his Sundays to only God, the man questioned Grissom's dedication to his family, as what kind of family man would spend Sunday, a day he shouldn't be working anyway, away from his family? When the man realized he had no family to dedicate his time to, the man took pity on him, and he had the officer take the guy away.

Needing no man's pity, especially his own that seemed to be creeping up on him for some damn reason, he wondered through the halls, using a case as a ruse for questions regarding her whereabouts. When he finally discovered her actually looking for him, they headed into his office. The door shutting behind them, she instantly started going on and on about something that _Greg_ had spilled, and how it was_ not _her, but that he shouldn't yell at Greg because Greg just had a bad day and _everyone_ has bad days.

He let her rant continue. Mostly because they're usually funny and cute and he can't help but love them (unless they're about him), but also it's because she'd probably kill him if he didn't let her get her word into their conversations. When she finally quit, she asked why he was looking for her, and he told her. Slowly and completely filled with just God-awful stutters and gi-freaking-normous words that Webster himself would have to grab a dictionary for, he told her what he wanted with her, from her, for her.

Her giddy smile and positively nervous nod made it the best day of his life.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day they first made love.

Crazy Beard Man must have had a point, because their relationship turning points seem to be taking place on the holiest day of the week quite a bit. But what's Heaven got on Sara Sidle?

Not. A. _Damn_. Thing.

Quite possibly the best day of his life was their fourth date. He showed up to her apartment, bunch of tacky flowers in nervously sweaty hand, and they never made it out of the place until work demanded their curiously mussed up attendance.

Of course that didn't stop it from happening again later that day, and the day after that, and the date after that…

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day he left.

He didn't want to. He had to.

She didn't want him to. She knew he had to.

Knowing that she cried afterwards, and that he was the very cause of it, it still makes the back of his throat ache as he holds his own tears back. Having promised her a life different from that which she'd always lived, he felt he'd failed her the moment she cried tears for something other than happiness or whatever it was she was feeling that time they had that _ridiculously_ amazing sex and she cried into him afterwards.

Knowing that she hurt makes him hurt. But when he came home and she was there, sitting on the front porch with the floppy-eared mutt she called a dog, ready to forgive him for everything- for all the tears, for all the words thrown around, for all the words _not_ thrown around, for leaving in general- it was the best damn day of his life.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day she left.

And as another terrible day in his life, he passes up those dreams. They aren't good for him, aren't good for his mind and soul.

He dreams of the day she'll come back. He dreams of the day she did.

For some reason this dream wakes him. Upset because he loves seeing it again and again, he gets over it once he looks over and sees Sara right beside him in their bed. Like him, she's beyond satisfied and has no plans but to continue sleeping the day away. He has no doubt at all that it absolutely is _the_ best day of his entire life, because her ghosts have all been set free now, there's a ring on her finger, and even in her sleep there's a smile on her face…because she dreams.

* * *

See? It wasn't sad, it was just dopey. And we can all deal with dopey. 

Reviews, they help me. With what, I don't know, but let's not find out what happens when I don't get them.

thegreatbluespoon


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